Notice Of Warrant: House Goldcrest, Cult Of The Damned (RP)

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Notice of Warrant of Arrest for: House Goldcrest, Cult Of The Damned Cabal, and supporting affiliates. Notable figures: Baron Theios Marcell Goldcrest, and Lord Savion Goldcrest.

Issued by: Lordaeronian Bureau of Justice and State Security Enforcement - Department of Fanaticism Control & Liquidation

Authorized by: REDACTED

Date of issue: Prior to the establishment of current Lordaeronian polity (warrants issued under previous pseudonyms have been updated to reflect recent identification of fugitives)

Desired Respiratory State: N/A - per ordinance 119-D convicted members of the Cult of the Damned are not entitled to maintenance of a preferred level of metabolic function. Collection of bounty requires the delivery of all constituent components of targeted fugitives, capture teams are warned that if a respiratory state is altered during acquisition and this permits the animus of an individual to escape, the bounty will not be paid.

Reward: Title to Goldcrest holdings upon delivery of cabal leadership Crimes: Membership in the Cult of the Damned, knowing transport of plague-infected grain to pre-Scourge Lordaeronian population centers, attempted genocide, fraud, theft of Lordaeronian state assets, significant loss of life derived from Scourge generated troops produced as a result of their actions, violation of the rights of sapient beings, high treason to the people and Crown of Lordaeron.

Notes: An old noble house from the Northern coast, this family accepted the lies and falsehoods of the Cult of the Damned, and adopted their twisted ideology as their own. The Goldcrest family knowingly aided and abetted the Scourge in the production, transport, and distribution of plague-tainted grain which in no small part facilitated the destruction of both public order and individual free will throughout the region their household supplied. The government of Lordaeron places a high value on the return of these traitors so that the Queen’s justice may seek a balancing of the scales once more. The latest intelligence reports place the fugitives active in the city of Stormwind. It is suspected that the Alliance is harboring these fugitives.

Lordaeronian Bureau of Justice and State Security Enforcement - Department of Fanaticism Control & Liquidation
Signed And Issued: Executor Sir Leondras Rommal and [REDACTED]

OOC DISCLAIMER: This is consensual rp, and all players involved agreed to this post. For ooc questions please feel free to contact Banshih or Members of the guild . To coordinate rp regarding this warrant, please contact Banshih or Members of the guild . This wanted poster can be found in Horde territories, as well as neutral locations like Booty Bay. Additionally, a great many of these wanted posters would find their way into Stormwind.

This is a part of the RP event Dance Of The Dead: Dance Of The Dead - Oct 21st & 22nd, 2021 (RP & RP-PVP)

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Theios sat back in his chair in his personal little study in his modest home in Stormwind’s Mage District. One boot planted against the edge of his desk, he thumbed through the small stack of wanted posters.

A whole stack. His entire household, accused and put up on display. Even the Scarlets weren’t so blessed.

His brow furrowed. “This doesn’t make sense… Why? We’ve barely got our heads above water, we’re barely making a stir. Why would anyone–” He set the papers down, muttering. His eyes strayed to something else on the desk, and he pushed aside parchment and ink bottles to get at it. An old map, detailing the port town his family had once owned in Northern Lordaeron. “Mm. That…might be why.”

–

He penned a letter and sent it out to each member of his house:

“It seems the Forsaken have somehow discovered that we intend to return to Lordaeron. Warrants have appeared. I do not know how such information might have reached them, but I imagine this is their form of a pre-emptive strike. Be on your guard. Be stalwart and brave as I know you to be, and do not be disheartened by their lies. I will meet with you all soon.”

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It wasn’t until the end of a long day of work that Savion noticed the wanted posters. He’d been on his way home — eyes tired from the tribulations of mending the ill and impaired. His life had been busy even before Thieos’ endeavors to reinstate the family, but with it, another multitude of stress had made Savion’s years even more obvious on him.

… My hair’s getting greyer by the day, he’d thought after a distant look into a mirror. Now, as he stared down his own face posted to a bounty board, that thought came again with another, … And will continue to do so even faster now.

He tore it off with as much subtle grace as he could, trying not to draw attention to himself. It was the last thing any of his patients needed to see. Already ill, already suffering, and now their doctor was an alleged member of the cult that’d played a part in making their lives hell not a year ago.

Hours had passed since he slammed the door of his humble home shut. A bit too hard, he thought, but it wasn’t the only time he’d come home angry. The first thing he’d done was slump into a chair, reading the poster over and over until he was sick of it. Finally his eyes fell into his lap where his cat slept. Savion hadn’t even realized she’d been there, or when she even got there. An old thing he’d picked up on the streets too long ago for him to remember, and it might be the only reason his hair hadn’t gone completely grey yet. As Savion stared distantly forward, he stroked his fingers through its long, white fur.

All the dreams Theios had given him about seeing the North again was quietly and quickly snuffed out, and the paper crinkled to a ball in his fist. “Lies,” he growled under his breath, trying desperately to hold on to a spark of hope. “No one would believe it…”

A knock at his door made him flinch, and made his cat twirl her head around before darting to hide. He frowned, brow knit. She always hated strangers. He exhaled deeply and strode to the door where he found a courier holding a letter for him. Savion was moments from snapping at the boy to send him away, but managed to contain his frustration when he saw who it was from. Theios.

He didn’t even speak to the young messenger. He barely even remembered to wave his hand to dismiss him before closing the door in his face. Savion opened the letter with anticipatory caution, and as he read through it, felt the weight of hopelessness wash over him. Perhaps before he’d managed to convince himself it could just be an elaborate joke that those warrants showed up, but now, it was a reality he couldn’t so easily escape from.

“… I should have been a painter after all,” he grumbled through a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose and discarding the letter on a nearby side table.

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The eyelids gradually rise which reveals the blue irises staring at the dark abyss, slowly getting up then appears to be a city full of knowledge. The clouds start to approach to shroud the sun over Dalaran. The sunlight barely cascades down from the clouds above. He glanced at his dog, Bob, as he fishes out his worn Pocketwatch
The short arrow hits five bells in the morning sharp in Stormwind. In his mind, he asked himself while hearing himself talking in a calm voice. “will it be today? And what will it be? Who? Light helps me find the way. When there is a will, there’s away.” It’s all foreign to him.
Bob’s snout starts to move, sniffing the ground and the air, searching for signs of undeath that may lurk in this city. The Scourge may be here, even though it is serene despite almost everyone forgot about them like it was a bad day for them, but he hasn’t.
He will never forget the Scourge and Death Knights committed the atrocities. He can see lich fire eyes that pierce his heart and soul. As they had turn one’s eyes to lifeless ones, that leads sorrows. He never cared if they were victims since they laid siege against Lights Hope Chapel…again. He didn’t need to lift a finger to destroy the Ebon Blades. He can just watch (former) Scourge champions go to the Maw and perish. To him most aren’t worth keeping alive, he believes they will do it all over again.
The gaze studies them carefully, sometimes their way of action or their way of dressing. Weeding out suspected undead and possible livings working with the Scourge directly or indirectly. He walks amongst the civilians and searches for signs of bite marks and other suspicious infections. If he does, he keeps track of it. A small detail sometimes reveals their intentions. On another hand, if there’s silently distressed. He will try to help even though isn’t a charismatic fellow despite many won’t or fail to notice.
His footsteps follow the trails that lead to Dalaran library. to resume research. The distance toward the library feels like it’s expanding. The mind of his glimpse back to the past. Remembering that Ren’dorei’s face. Then the images go close to the present. Remembering those words of a Cardinal." Doing good is being creative." He vaguely recollects those words in front of his wisdom. Recalling the grimoire text that contains knowledge about Demons and Fel. Which he deeply hated, it destroyed a part of his soul.

He starts to question everything more and more. There were some nights he didn’t sleep. One thought brought up is that Quel’ dorei who bombed that City Hall. He wished the guards and the Paladins put a bullet in her head just to take precautions to never let it happen again or sentence her for a lifetime. Terrorism shouldn’t be taken lightly in his own eyes. Especially what he found months ago.

He approaches and gazes at the posters in front of the library. Spotting the Cult of the Damned members. The timing of it surfaced and San’layn rising. It is a bit of a coincidence, and there is a smuggler. He believes there is a small chance these people may be part of the issue. He stares at it, pausing. He needs to gather and assemble an ideal diverse team, a Mage, Death Knight, Paladins, Warlock, Void users. He is picky about who he chooses and with good reasons. . Recklessness isn’t an option and tries to prepare in case other forms of magic are involved.

The necromancers are former mages, he will safely assume they are liches or something else… the worst case… winged entities encounter. His priority is to gather the people. People who are rational or close to rational compared to some Paladins and Priests who stayed in their ivory tower called the church. And there will be complications involved if he brings in those types.
Once he is inside He pulls out a couple of books on biology and the ecosystem. He struggled with one arm until he sets it on the table along with his journal. He blankly stares at it, a tad of fear is all he can think of for a moment. Thinking how and where can he comprehend deep knowledge of dark magic. Some of the librarians gave him a funny look with the choices and the way how he looks. They would curl their lips up at the dog as they walk by, guarding Anderson as he watches them.

He plans how he can search for the Smuggler first then the rest, otherwise, it’s others. Capture it alive then question them, a daunting task since his combat isn’t superb. Anderson much rather locks them up forever in high security, execution is an easy way out. Then there is also another issue ahead. Dealing with other factions that may get involved, maybe more Ebon Blade. He doesn’t trust many of them since there may be Rouge Death Knights among them. Wolves in sheep clothing! There are other contingencies he has to think about.

After hours of reading, the clock struck at five bells afternoon, he glanced at his pocket watch before putting them away. Searching for individuals first who he knows deemed worthy to trust. The sky clears up in Stormwind as the scorching heat rains down this town.

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Selanathorei sat on top of her horse and watched the nearby woods of Elewyn as she rode - every tree could hide a potential ambush or waylayer. The beast was quiet as hooves trod on the cobbled roadway and while one hand gripped the reins, the other sat firmly on the pommel of her sword. Even when she tried to escape to clear her mind it was always on vigil and high-alert. It was needed.

It had only been hours since the wanted posters were brought to her attention. Only hours since she had to look at the crimes being thrown at House Goldcrest and it’s peoples. The Forsaken were tenacious for sure, but ultimately a misguided bunch.

They should be put down.

The old voice of the long dead Vindicator in her head rang out through Sela’s skull like a thunderous echo. Even after all the time she still could hear the spirits voice. A small price to pay in regards to the power the long dead draenei’s soul offered her.

The forest remained quiet for her, even into the later parts of the afternoon, and the solemn draenei passed Goldshire back on her way Stormwind. Regardless of her personal feelings on the matter of the bounties, she had a job to do. Lord Theios would need to see security overheld for not just himself but for other members of the family.

For the first time since she left on her ride a small smile crossed her normal stoic face.

At least within the walls of Stormwind and under the Nobles, Goldcrest had a chance at their glorious future.

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Liana Goldcrest made it as far as the Sorcerer’s Abode’s entrance before the outrage took hold. Magi, both junior and senior, made way as the sharp clicking of her footsteps announced her arrival and the collapse of her icy temperament. She heard none of their whispers, there was no sound but the echoing of her thoughts: Why are they doing this? How long do I have until they hunt me down? Who saw the posters?

She scattered crumpled fliers across her desk and fumed at them. They were rather accurate illustrations of her House, they even managed to capture that clever glint of Theios’ eyes. But she hadn’t found one for her, not yet at least. Just one accusation had the potential to ruin everything they were trying to accomplish. All the years of serving unimportant roles. All the months spent fighting in that damned war like a lowborn. Everything she sacrificed for her House would end with a Forsaken conspiracy.

“They’re not dragging me back to Lordaeron like a lamb for the slaughter. I will have none of their scheming!” Even with frostfire burning in her voice she could not quell the terror. There was only one course she could take. Flee.

The essentials were hastily packed and just as she reached for a rune of teleportation Theios’s visage caught her eye. There was disappointment in his gaze. They had just reunited, finally bridged the chasm in their marriage left by the loss of their son.

“No, I can’t just leave him with this,” she whispered, “I must still my heart and think rationally.”

Fleeing would only indicate guilt. No, she would fight this. Composing herself, Liana took hold of her bag and marched not out of the city, but straight to Theios’s home. They were past due of moving in together anyway.

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She was hurting from the battle the day before and stayed in her office going through the stacks of paperwork she has been neglecting for a week or so. Most pages found their way straight into the fire that was burning to ward off the cool morning air that rolled in off the bay outside the manor. Chelsea Brackwell sat near, in case of assistance being needed.

She picked up some advertisements for goods for sale in Dalaran. "Junk."

Flyer for an end-of-summer beach bash that was already passed. "Junk."

A warrant for House Goldcrest. “Ju…” She paused as her eyes caught the next set of words Cult of the Damn. "Curious. I haven’t read or seen anything about that group since we dealt with Blue Sky Trading."

She flipped through several pages of warrants, no name seemed familiar except the house name. "Chelsea, bring me the log from the Blackwake caves."

"Yes Lady DeSirrus." the woman was on her feet and heading out the door to obtain the book.

"Sefi. Call me Sefi. How many… never mind, just get the ledger."

She continued to thumb through the junk to find a petition for asylum, again, House Goldcrest. At this time Miss Brackwell brought in a thick leather-bound ledger that recorded significant finds in a cave system several months back. Any that knew Persefani would know she is very detail orientated, as well as organized, quickly she found House Goldcrest. "I knew it look familiar. Please have Lot 43G brought from storage. If the notes are correct, we have some very interesting, and perhaps valuable, information on our hands."

"Right away Lady… Sefi."

Both women would leave the office to better inspect the lot.

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A parade could be seen leaving Stormwind Keep. At first it was individuals fleeing, exclaiming the terrible news. “A fight has broken out in the House of Nobles!” which encouraged many to either flee, or run to the chaos to see how they could fit in. Some more time passed, and wounded and injured were escorted out. Eventually, as the dust settled and some time passed, a group of Royal Guards emerged.

Flanking the former Chief Serjeant-at-Arms, now Magistrate Meng Shufen was escorted as she lead a procession of bound prisoners through the city towards the stockades, as Serjeant Caricias Telrenn watched from the rear. The three men bound being none other than Savion Goldcrest, Baron Theios Marcell Goldcrest, and Roberric Brannson. The parade was accompanied by Death Knights of the Ebon Blade, whom helped suppress the worn and almost ghastly looking men. They had been beaten and put through proper hell.

Rumors and reports spread like wildfire as they were led into the stockades, and were admitted to holding. Word of their necrotic feats and dark magics used during the brawl came out, it appeared the charges levied against the Goldcrests by the Forsaken were true. They were indeed very powerful leaders of the Cult of the Dammed.

Now they were under heavy lock and key, in secure holding within the heart of Stormwind City. Their fates were in the hand of the Stormwind Judiciary, for the time being, at least.

What of the other warrants? Did that have glimmers of truth to them as well? Time would tell.

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